


a lo-fi piece of mind

by sears



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pining, Roommates, aspiring chef taeyong, family and food, i dont know how to rate things im sorry, ruby the dog, very minor sexual content, writes about christmas in july lmao this is how unhinged ive become
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sears/pseuds/sears
Summary: This is a part of him, Doyoung knows-- it's Taeyong's unique brand of baring his soul to the world, sharing small pieces of himself with those he deems worthy. It's why Doyoung always treats these tasting sessions like they're a privilege. It's easy to play off as playfulness-- pretending to be a haughty, rich customer of Taeyong's imaginary restaurant-- but it has some truth to it. Taeyong makes him feel important.------





	a lo-fi piece of mind

 

For someone who isn't too big on crowds, Taeyong completely comes to life in the bustle of the busy streets at night. The food vendors put the finishing touches on their stalls, the lights that wind between the branches of the trees flicker to life, and the horizon begins to darken, the edges tinged pink. There's already trailing wafts of steam and smoke hovering in the air, the smell of it permeating their clothes, something Doyoung loves about these trips to the night markets-- the smell always lingers, sweet and familiar.

Taeyong tugs at the sleeve of Doyoung's jacket to pull him along, and Doyoung pretends to be annoyed yet obediently follows. They have to squeeze through the swarms of people gathering in front of the more popular vendors, and Taeyong never likes to lose him.

They share a serving of tteokbokki, opening their mouths when they realize it's too hot to chew, huffing out steam into the chilly, late-autumn air. Taeyong laughs as they both refuse to wait for the food to cool, chewing every bite with half open mouths and hissing through the burn. After they finish, Taeyong leans in close, wipes at the corner of Doyoung's mouth and says, "Your lips are all red".

Doyoung doesn't even have a chance to say thank you before he's being tugged off to the next vendor.

Taeyong always takes a particular interest in the foods he's never seen before-- either creative renditions of classics, or some that are born entirely of a new generation of artists, a creative type of food culture that always seems to thrive in big cities like this one. Taeyong gets overly excited over some crispy sweetcorn hotteok-- "Like cookies," he says to the vendor, his voice dripping with pleasure, still chewing and speaking with his mouth full.

He feeds Doyoung, because while Doyoung is always more of a passenger on these whimsical trips, Taeyong never likes to make him feel left out. It was how they got close to begin with-- Taeyong tried to include him, and Doyoung accepted and encouraged it.

Dusting some of the crumbs of the crispy hotteok from Doyoung's mouth, Taeyong says, "You're a mess," and Doyoung wonders if it's healthy to care so deeply for another person. The street lights bounce off of Taeyong's hair, the color of it faded into something silver and almost ethereal. It's ridiculous, but it suits him.

Doyoung eventually shoves him away, muttering annoyance at Taeyong's obsession with keeping him neat and presentable, to which Taeyong replies, "Well _someone_ has to."

Taeyong receives the punch Doyoung sends to his shoulder with an infuriatingly adorable giggle.

The ppopgi Taeyong hands him after they've sat in awe watching it get made is still warm and has a heart stamped on it. His expression when he gives it to Doyoung is suspiciously blank, a blink of eye connection, and then a swift turn back to the vendor. Doyoung tries and fails to eat around the design, cracks the heart right through the middle, but the sweetness is divine, so he doesn't mind. Taeyong doesn't even try to keep from cracking his ppopgi's design-- would never accept anything for free in the first place.

 

  
They end up at their shared apartment with sticky hands and full bellies, bodies and minds warmed from the comfort of the food. Taeyong walks right into Doyoung's room to kick off his shoes after a minute or so spent riling Ruby up, her tail wagging with glee. Doyoung calls this his room, but it hasn't felt like only his in a long time. When they'd picked this place out they picked rooms and stuck to it for the first month or so, but then it's like the walls just... dissolved around them. Everything in here is just _theirs_ , and besides-- Taeyong always whines about Doyoung getting the better bathroom, and Doyoung doesn't have to worry about tidying it up since Taeyong always does it for him.

Taeyong jumps right into the shower, and as Doyoung undresses for bed he gets called into a conversation. They do this all the time, but Doyoung is too tired to deal with the suffuse of heat that washes over him when he sits in his usual spot on the toilet seat while Taeyong does this-- both at the scalding water Taeyong uses that fogs up the mirror even with the door open, and at the outline of his body from behind the blur of the cheap shower curtain.

Instead, Doyoung opens the door and sits on the floor outside, head thunking back against the wall that holds the showerhead on the opposite side of it. Taeyong has an idea again, he tells him, and he needs Doyoung to jot it down for him. Doyoung is already ready with a pen and notepad, expecting as much.

"Food should be an experience," he says, his voice carrying over the spray of the shower. "Themes seem popular. What if there was one that was like... only for couples? Food only comes in servings of two, tables only seat two, that sort of thing."

Doyoung huffs, his mouth curving somewhat bitterly. "What if more people want to eat there? Or go alone, even?"

"They wouldn't," is Taeyong's petulant response.

"How do you know?" Doyoung replies, gazing absently up at the ceiling. "Sometimes lonely people like to be around that sort of thing-- like to see other people happy together."

Doyoung can hear the metallic scrape of the curtain being pulled back, the quiet "huh?" when Taeyong realizes he isn't in the room with him. He peeks around the corner instead, says accusingly, "Have you done that before?"

He sounds so clearly appalled that Doyoung almost feels offended. He's being ridiculous-- jumping out of the shower into the cold simply to make some kind of a point, to act like Doyoung is the weird one for maybe wanting to eat somewhere alone, never mind the boy stood naked and dripping trying to claim a lover's cafe is going to be the next big thing.

"I've never even seen a restaurant like that," Doyoung says, his neck flushing hot when he catches a hint of the curve of Taeyong's backside, right where it connects to his thigh, as he turns to hop back into the shower.

"Which is exactly why it's such a good idea," he proclaims, back under the hot, steaming spray by the sound of his voice echoing off the tiles.

Doyoung sighs, says, "probably a reason for that," just quiet enough that Taeyong can't hear.

 

\--

 

It's becoming increasingly difficult to know where they stand. Where this relationship started as a tentative friendship, it tumbled rather abruptly into cohabitation, and there wasn't much middle ground. It's like reading the first paragraph of a book and then skipping to the end-- the development isn't there, and it's unnerving to dive so deeply into the unknown.

That being said, they're comfortable. They were right from the beginning, forming a connection so instantly that even their friends found it odd. Doyoung was trying to organize where such a large group of them could go eat without having to wait too long for a table, and Taeyong made a snap decision right over top of him, beating him to it. Doyoung called him out, Taeyong declared him a control freak, Doyoung shrieked in offense and chased him down the street, and Taeyong had been more out of breath from laughing than from running away. The rest of the night was spent kicking each other beneath the table and stealing food from each other's plates. Mark had offhandedly said _"match made in heaven"_ as a joke, but Doyoung still stupidly clings to that, wonders if he hadn't accidentally hit the nail on the head.

Sometimes though, even despite how close they've become, Taeyong draws so far inwards that Doyoung worries he might disappear, folding into tightly knit pieces that nearly split at the seams from all the tension.

This is when he writes. Not in the notebook he carries with him, the one with scribbled recipes and doodles, notes for groceries and other errands. This notebook stays hidden in his side table drawer, the one tied shut with a string of worn leather. Doyoung isn't sure what he writes in there, but doesn't press him to find out. Privacy is sacred when you live with someone else, no matter who they are.

On nights like these Taeyong writes, barely speaks, and Doyoung leaves him to it. He doesn't feel like being caught in the fire-- doesn't want to tip the scales so far that Taeyong decides he isn't worth it anymore, asks him to move out.

Instead, on nights like this, Doyoung goes out by himself. He walks out by the river all bundled up in a warm coat and scarf, and he stops at the small little shop near the park for some hot chocolate. He sits on one of the benches and hums to a tune he's never heard before, unsure of where it's from but more than willing to let it flow. Taeyong says his ability to do this means he's got 'it', whatever _'it'_ is. It's not a secret he thinks Doyoung should be a singer, but Doyoung is far too grounded to pursue it, doesn't shoot much higher than he thinks is sensible. He never says this to Taeyong, because he knows he'll take offense to it, though Doyoung never means it that way.

  
But then there are days like _this_ \-- days where Taeyong gets some of the color back in his cheeks, when he seems reborn with ideas and vigor, spending hours in the kitchen putting things together that even Doyoung sometimes can't figure out.

He always pulls Doyoung over like this, with a gentle but insistent grip around his wrist. He seats him at the island on one of their plastic, all white and immaculately clean stools. It's not surprising, but Taeyong has an immense attention to detail. Everything he dishes up is crafted with the utmost care, treated lovingly. This is a part of him, Doyoung knows-- it's Taeyong's unique brand of baring his soul to the world, sharing small pieces of himself with those he deems worthy. It's why Doyoung always treats these tasting sessions like they're a privilege. It's easy to play off as playfulness-- pretending to be a haughty, rich customer of Taeyong's imaginary restaurant-- but it has some truth to it. Taeyong makes him feel important.

"It's kind of simple, but I wanted to try it," Taeyong explains shyly, pushing the dish in front of Doyoung.

He always dishes these things so perfectly. Within the bowl is what looks to be not more than a simple chicken and noodle soup, the broth spotted with oil, a small tuft of green leaves all piled together on top of the elegant tumble of noodles. Doyoung takes a sip of the broth first and moans in genuine bliss.

"This is so good," he says sincerely, leaning down to sip some more. "What's in it?"

Taeyong beams. He's half bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches Doyoung eat the food he crafted, like _he's_ the one who is privileged in this arrangement.

"Sesame oil and curry powder, little mint and coriander," he explains.

Doyoung slurps some noodles, just undercooked, the way Taeyong has trained him to love. Without really thinking, or swallowing all of the food in his mouth, Doyoung says, "You're going to make the best husband."

Taeyong freezes, his expression immediately pulling taut. Doyoung's heart feels like it's stopped, and he looks up at him, tries not to look as pleading as he feels. He exhales in relief when Taeyong eventually turns to get some of the soup for himself, the moment passing blessedly unacknowledged.

Taeyong stands as he eats, legs crossed as he leans back against the counter. He keeps the bowl close to his mouth, all while eyeing Doyoung contemplatively, like he's a puzzle he's on the verge of solving. Doyoung tries not to choke on the noodles, trying to be subtle and eat as quickly as he can.

"I don't think it has anything to do with cooking," Taeyong says unprompted, after a mildly uncomfortable bout of silence, only the slurping sounds of eating echoing around the kitchen.

Doyoung blinks up at him. "What?"

"Being a good partner," Taeyong clarifies. "I think if someone loved me the right way, they could heat up a tin of old beans for me and I wouldn't care."

"You might care a little," Doyoung says, pushing for nonchalance so as to conceal the thinly veiled question beneath. _Would you really not care?_

"Why?" Taeyong asks. "Would you?"

Doyoung wants to say yes-- wants to say _you've spoiled me for it forever, I'll never be able to live with someone and not wish for what you've given me instead, it will always haunt me how good you are without even realizing it._

Instead, Doyoung settles on shrugging and saying, "Maybe you're right."

 

\--

  
Taeyong leaves for the weekend, and he seems to stand by his stance that food doesn't matter, seeing as he leaves none for Doyoung to tide him over while he's gone.

Thing is, Doyoung rarely cooks, even for just himself. If he does, it's something made in the microwave, or with no actual cooking involved at all. Things like ramyun, or the sandwich he makes now. Half of the pate he cuts is fed to Ruby, who sits obedient but expectant at his feet, biting the food delicately from his fingers. It's almost like she knows that Doyoung is particularly soft on her when Taeyong is gone. It's gotten to the point where Taeyong has given up on scolding him for it most times, only grumbles a flustered _'aish'_ as he pushes her gently away with his foot when she tries it with him so that he can walk back out of the kitchen.

Doyoung settles into the couch, feeling Taeyong's absence like a hole in his chest. Not something painful, exactly, but rather a dull sense of emptiness, something missing. Feeling far too pathetic to sit here and wallow over things he isn't sure he has a right to wallow over, Doyoung decides to take Ruby out for a walk. The weather is nice, he might as well take advantage of it.

As he walks, allowing Ruby to take the lead, following whichever path she seems to want to go down, Doyoung runs into Taeyong's sister-- which is odd, considering he assumed she would be on the trip with him and the rest of his family. She says a warm, bright hello, and then crouches down to spoil Ruby with attention, Ruby's backside wiggling so hard she almost topples over from it.

Despite the happy scene in front of him Doyoung can't seem to shake a sense of creeping dread, something cold slipping down the length of his spine. What if Taeyong lied to him? What if he just needed to get away, and didn't feel he could be honest about it?

Almost as though she's capable of reading minds, Taeyong's sister detaches herself from Ruby to stand and say, "Ah, I opted out of going on the trip. I promised to spend time at home."

'Home' for her now means her husband, Doyoung realizes, and some of the sweetness of that sentiment soothes the shame of being so blatantly transparent with his feelings around her.

She invites him to have coffee with her at a small cafe on the corner. The waiter brings them two steaming hot drinks and then comes over again with a small aluminum bowl full of water for Ruby, which she laps up happily.

Doyoung tries not to shrink beneath the scrutiny of Taeyong's sister's stare-- she's always been nice to him, is just a nice person in general, but it feels like he needs to impress her for some reason.

"He wanted to invite you, you know," she says, in what is a sudden and unexpected shift from casual small talk into uncharted and potentially disastrous territory.

"What?" Doyoung says, flinching at the crack in his voice. "Oh, he doesn't have to."

She rolls her eyes like he's being deliberately obtuse. "You boys, honestly."

"He wants to have you over for dinner," Doyoung says in rebuttal, trying his hardest to keep from being awkward. "He has this idea for a couples menu."

"Does he now." she says slowly.

"Um. He wanted to try and do a ghost run with you and your husband, if you're both able."

She smiles at him. "We might be. Why not use his favorite taste tester, though?" she asks, tapping Doyoung's foot with the pointed, black patent toe of her shoe.

Doyoung shifts uncomfortably. "It's for couples," he says, trying not to come off like he thinks she's thick.

"Right." she says, sounding annoyed but looking far too amused.

The waiter breaks through the tension when he brings over the warm pastries they ordered, and the conversation shifts back to less foreboding topics.

She foots the bill, waving Doyoung off when he thanks her with a deep bow of his head.

"You need to eat more," she says, pinching the skin of his neck and tutting the way his mother sometimes does. "Isn't Taeyong feeding you enough?"

"I've always been like this," Doyoung replies, not really minding her pinch, but mildly unsettled by the implication that Taeyong should be feeding him. "I don't think I can help it."

"Lucky you," she says, before turning toward the cashier to pay the bill.

_I know I'm lucky_ , Doyoung thinks, as he discretely buys a box of sweetbread-- the kind with the crumbly tops he knows that Taeyong likes-- and a panini for later. He's sure the panini will be more than enough for dinner, but it's not the same. It isn't served with care, wasn't made with him in mind. Not like that affects the food, but rather the experience of eating it. Taeyong is onto something in that regard, he thinks. Food is something that should be shared and experienced, not just ingested and forgotten about.

  
\--

  
"Hyung, if there was a couple's only restaurant, would you go to it?"

"Eh? Are you asking me to dinner?" Gongmyung asks, sounding more than a little confused. Doyoung tries to reword the phrase in his head, shifting the phone to his other hand so he can sit more comfortably without straining his arm.

"No, I mean. The idea. Taeyong thinks it might be nice."

Gongmyung snorts, laughs at Doyoung's predicament in a way that only an older brother would be allowed.

"I'm sure he does," he says sagely.

"Why do people keep saying things like this?" Doyoung huffs pathetically, more to the ceiling above his head than to his brother.

"What? Who else have you talked about this to?"

"Nobody-- hyung, I miss him," Doyoung confesses, taking the moment of confusion to speak a small, simple truth.

"Did you ask for someone else's opinion before mine? I'm offended, Dongyoungie."

Doyoung drags a hand over his face, his palm muffling the frustrated grumble of, "Why are you like this?"

"I think everyone except for you knows exactly why Taeyong wants to try a couple's only restaurant," Gongmyung says, his voice soft and fond. "And you always miss him, I don't know why you even bother saying it anymore."

"Do not," Doyoung argues.

"Do too."

"No."

"Yes--"

" _Hyung_ \--"

"Dongyoungie," he says, taking a deep, meaningful breath. It means he thinks it's time to impart some brotherly wisdom. "How long has he been gone?"

Doyoung sighs. "A day."

"And how long had he been gone the last time you called me like this?" Gongmyung asks, his voice verging on obnoxious, the way some people speak to their pets.

"Less than a day," Doyoung says tightly. "That's not the point, I don't need you to tell me I'm being irrational just--" Doyoung struggles to find the right word, half growls in frustration when he can't find it.

"What, just sit and let you complain for a while?"

"Yes!" Doyoung proclaims, throwing his arms out with enough aggression that it gives Ruby a small fright.

Gongmyung laughs warmly while Doyoung tries to placate Ruby with scritches behind her ear. He says, "I'm always here for that, you know I am," and Doyoung can't really argue. He likes to tease, but Doyoung would have lost his mind twice over by now if Gongmyung didn't pick up his phone every time he panicked.

 

The first call to his brother like this happened after the first time he went out with Taeyong alone. It felt like a date, and although Doyoung felt silly for feeling that way at the time, in hindsight he still thinks it's justified. Taeyong even pulled the chair out for Doyoung to sit-- albeit with a shit eating grin that spoke of an intent to pull the chair out from under him, to which Doyoung's response was to curse him and smack his hand away.

It was just... Taeyong gave him his full attention, which he wasn't quite used to getting from anyone, nevermind someone who seemed so magnetic it felt like everything in the room was captured in orbit around him. He made fun of the way Doyoung chewed, said he was like a rabbit eating carrots, and then laughed even louder when Doyoung kicked him hard beneath the table.

That was one of the first times Doyoung realized he might have a problem. When Taeyong laughed so hard his jaw nearly became unhinged, and then shifted immediately into being all shy and innocent when the waitress came over to take their order, it was just-- so unexpected.

It got even worse when Taeyong took out a camera from his bag before the end of their meal. He quickly snapped a picture of Doyoung in the middle of chewing his food and then yanked it out of his reach before Doyoung could grab it.

"For blackmail later," he'd said. Doyoung wonders if he still has the photo now, or if it's been lost in the rubble of every other time that camera has come along with them-- to parks, food festivals, concerts, the river.

Doyoung had called his brother that night from his old apartment, heart beating heavily, needing the comforting hum of his brother's voice while he bitched and moaned about how confusing it all was.

 

  
When Taeyong needs comfort he clings.

There must have been some kind of tension at the house with his family, as he immediately collapses into the sofa next to Doyoung when he walks through the door. He looks up at the ceiling as he pushes out a heavy exhale, letting his head flop to the side as he reaches over to tug at Doyoung's ear. Doyoung swats him away, which only serves to invite Taeyong closer. He ends up pushing his bony knees into Doyoung's side in what seems like an effort to crawl right beneath his skin. They wrestle around a bit to find a comfortable position, and end up watching one of the many vocal competitions with Taeyong's head resting on his stomach while he leans back against the arm of the couch.

"You're better than they are," Taeyong says, gesturing to the screen. He says it in a way that's almost childishly assured, like he is preemptively refusing to accept that he's wrong.

"You don't know that."

"I do," Taeyong says. "You could be on this show if you wanted to, easily."

Doyoung doesn't respond, only hums in a way that he figures is vague enough that it doesn't agree nor disagree. Instead he focuses on combing his fingers through Taeyong's hair, nails occasionally scratching gently at his scalp. He hums along with some of the songs he recognizes, sings quietly as he watches the rise and fall of Taeyong's shoulders instead of the tv.

  
That night Taeyong crawls into Doyoung's bed, pulls at his shoulder until he's forced to turn around. He pushes right into Doyoung's space, pulls Doyoung's face until it's settled into the crook of his neck, and then tangles their legs together. He wraps an arm around Doyoung's shoulders and grips the back of his tshirt. Doyoung presses his face into Taeyong's skin until Taeyong's grip on his shirt goes lax and Doyoung's heart calms enough to let him sleep.

  
\--

  
"You're coming to my family's house for Christmas," Taeyong says one day, as though the announcement has been simmering beneath his skin for weeks. It isn't even close to a question, but the flushed cheeks and uncertain stance speaks to the contrary. "Tell Gongmyung-hyung I'll make it up to him."

Doyoung almost laughs, because his brother won't mind in the slightest. He'll probably be relieved he won't have to deal with Doyoung's pining in person-- might even be happy for his little brother getting something he really wants for Christmas.

Of course he agrees to go, but he's beginning to wonder more and more where this is heading. They haven't lived together like friends for so long now, and it's becoming more confusing as the days go on. It's been a unique companionship, perhaps a little codependent, but not in the ways Doyoung thinks are particularly unhealthy.

Doyoung is just spoiled for good food, and Taeyong can get all the attention and affection he never feels he has the right to ask for.

Even later that evening, when Doyoung is dying Taeyong's hair for him, the weakness Doyoung is becoming less and less resistant to is more than apparent. Taeyong cranes his neck back to press the top of his bright pink head right into Doyoung's stomach, staining his t-shirt. He doesn't have it in him to be anything other than playfully angry. Doyoung tuts down at him, says he's lucky he likes him, and the responding twinkle in Taeyong's eye is exactly why Doyoung thinks this boy will be the death of him.

"You're so good to me," Taeyong says, sounding almost drunk off of the way Doyoung's fingers pass through his hair, deliberately massaging the tension out of his scalp.

"I know," he replies, though he doesn't believe it.

Doyoung's hands are stained pink for a week, and when they go out together the combination of that along with the color of Taeyong's hair looks more than a little incriminating. It's an almost prideful feeling, however, one that has him puffing his chest out just a little bit when he notices the sheer amount of people who swoon in Taeyong's direction. It's like Taeyong has marked him as his, like everyone else should know how good they are together.

Doyoung even thinks about wearing the pink stained shirt, but that would be a pathetic step too far. As if he isn't obvious enough as it is.

 

\--

 

Christmas dinner is all at once alarmingly comfortable and extremely nerve wracking. Taeyong's sister keeps eyeing them in this funny way, like she knows something they don't, and is overly sweet to Doyoung when they interact. He half wonders if she's been talking to Gongmyung somehow, but figures they just share similar traits as older siblings. She's more tactile than him, at least. Doyoung's had his cheeks pinched more times than he can count.

Ruby comes with them and gets completely spoiled with attention. Doyoung feels only moderately ashamed when she chooses to sit at his feet when they all sit at the table to eat, clearly expecting to receive some of his scraps. He ignores her as best he can, focuses on the warm conversation, pretending not to notice the unamused look Taeyong sends him when he sees her there waiting to be fed.

Even Taeyong's mother is treating him like her own son. She keeps petting the back of his hair, tuts at not having seen him in so long, blames Taeyong for intentionally keeping him hidden. It makes Taeyong blush and his sister starts laughing, and Doyoung feels like he's missing the joke here.

Taeyong's father looks tense, particularly uncomfortable whenever there's a mention of "them" as a single, combined entity. Despite the outward discomfort, he is mostly cordial. He shakes Doyoung's hand so firmly when he leaves it pulls a small strain at the muscle of his shoulder. The gesture feels final, in a way Doyoung can't really rationalize. Like something important has changed in the span of a single evening, and he's being welcomed into this new space with respect and love.

When they finally make it home after Taeyong's mother has showered them both with kisses and given them enough leftovers to last for a solid month, Taeyong puts on this smooth hip-hop/jazz fusion mix that Doyoung has tipsily proclaimed in the past to be 'their style'.

"It fits us," he had said, his cheeks flushed splotchy pink, watching Taeyong's grin tilt with amusement. "You rap, I sing. It just... fits."

It was perhaps the least eloquent way of explaining how he felt about them, encompassing some of the confusion or lack of applicable explanations as to _why_. Whether or not Taeyong was sober enough to pick up on that is another matter entirely. Instead he'd rolled them both over away from where they were seated around the coffee table, tackling Doyoung to the ground as he laughed into his neck for long enough to be legitimately short on breath.

Now though, far less tipsy and much more coordinated, Taeyong takes Doyoung's hand and starts to dance him around the living room. Doyoung hums along, his heart so light he can feel it flutter at the base of his throat, all while Taeyong grins and tugs Doyoung around by the waist with his usual mesh of gentlemanly grace and smooth swagger. It's a bit of a performance, but their only audience is Ruby.

It makes it all the more difficult to look away from him-- to not think that this is perhaps the single best day of his life and to wish he could tell Taeyong as much.

They slow at the lull between songs, Taeyong still swaying them both back and forth. It's not the closest they've ever been, but it feels different, something charged and almost physical between them. Taeyong reaches up to push the hair up off of Doyoung's forehead, holding it back as though he'd prefer to see Doyoung's face laid bare. While Doyoung's hands settle carefully around his waist, Taeyong leans in to press a soft kiss just below the corner of Doyoung's eye, a mirror position to his own scar.

"Merry Christmas," Taeyong murmurs, tilting his head to brush the sides of their noses together, his mouth so painfully close.

"What is this?" Doyoung asks shakily, breath shuddering out of him when Taeyong lets his hand slip down. Taeyong cups his jaw and presses just beneath Doyoung's mouth, his lips parting obediently.

"What do you want it to be?" Taeyong whispers in turn, the change in song not affecting the same gentle swaying of their bodies.

With his heart tripping all over itself-- his eyes strangely heavy as they struggle to focus on Taeyong's face, keep it from becoming a warm, fuzzy blur-- he says, "You _have_ to know by now."

Taeyong makes a quiet, desperate little sound as he surges forward, kissing him firm on the mouth this time. The kiss softens the moment Doyoung parts his lips, allowing it to deepen. There's still music, but all Doyoung can hear is them-- the heavy way Taeyong breathes out from his nose, the soft clicks of their mouths moving together.

They kiss for what feels like days, no longer swaying but stiff and trembling, afraid to let go of each other lest the moment gets erased by the movement. Doyoung imagines there's mistletoe above their heads, smiles into the kiss at the thought and allows it to widen when Taeyong pulls back to press smaller kisses to his cheeks, his nose, the crinkled skin at the corners of his eyes.

"What's so funny?" he murmurs, pressing the words into Doyoung's cheek.

"Nothing," Doyoung says, not even attempting to tamper down his smile. "Just happy."

Taeyong gets that look in his eye, the one that tells Doyoung he should probably start running unless he wants to be attacked with tickles, or something equally obnoxious. Ruby, however is having none of it, senses the suddenly heightened tension that always signals 'playtime' for her and barks at their feet until they back away from each other.

They stumble like they're drunk on the way to Taeyong's bedroom, and it isn't nearly as awkward as it should be. Ruby nips at Doyoung's heels, Taeyong laughs so hard his nose crinkles up when Doyoung swears, and it just feels natural-- like this is the penultimate chapter of the book he's been dying to finish.

Kissing beneath the covers feels more illicit somehow-- privately intimate in a way that feels entirely separate from the holiday cheer, or the lingering warmth of family and friends. Taeyong rolls them over and kisses his neck, the hinge of his jaw, murmurs his name like he's tasting it for the first time on his tongue. They are something old renewed, Doyoung realizes, something comforting and familiar but with a hint of something fresh and unexpected.

Doyoung has often wondered how kissing Taeyong might be. If he'd known it would be this soft-- the warm slide of his tongue, not insistent but soothing, his lips plush and already kiss swollen-- he may have tried to get to this point sooner. Taeyong's elbows are like pins in the bedsheets, holding Doyoung in place and keeping himself above him. The position makes his shoulders seem broader, and allows him just enough distance to tug on Doyoung's lower lip when he takes it between his teeth.

Doyoung has never been this keyed up before, never this attuned to someone else's touch. Taeyong brushes their noses together, shifts forward on his elbows enough that he has to hunch to kiss Doyoung, but that he can reach up to play with his hair. He teases and pretends to kiss, pulling away at the last second, and giving in with a soft moan when Doyoung yanks him firmly down by the neck.

Doyoung gasps into the kiss when Taeyong's knee slips between his legs, and then it's the absence of kissing that becomes the most intimate part. It's just breathing together, bodies pushing in the same direction, hearts slamming against the cages of their ribs. The space between them is so small, it's hard to tell where one of them begins and the other one ends.

In the end, Taeyong's breath shivers brokenly out of him all at once, and Doyoung's body pulls taut, and it feels less like something monumental and more like finally, _finally_ coming home.

 

\--

 

Taeyong shelves the couples cafe idea for a while, says he thinks Doyoung was right, that some people might find it in poor taste. Doyoung prods him for a more specific reason why, and Taeyong only shrugs a little shyly and says, "I didn't like the thought of you going somewhere like that alone."

"I won't be alone now though, right?" Doyoung says, poking Taeyong in the hip with his foot.

"Ugh, don't be stupid," Taeyong grumbles, kicking him back.

They play a rather aggressive round of footsie until Ruby starts barking at them to break it up, and then Taeyong is all but crawling into his lap, pushing him back into the couch. He sits up on Doyoung's hips, grinning wickedly. Before Doyoung can tumble them backward in an attempt to regain some control, Taeyong jumps off of him, jogging into the kitchen bare footed with loose jeans dragging against the floor at his heels.

Taeyong starts to cook them dinner, his hair pulled away from his face with a thick cotton headband, shifting so easily into concentration that it makes Doyoung's head spin. It's like that with him-- always has been. To be with Taeyong he has to keep up, has to be ready to run at a moments notice.

Doyoung watches Taeyong's back with caution as he leans to down to feed Ruby half of the chicken Taeyong gives him to taste on a small sauce dish. Taeyong catches him, yells loud enough at them both to have Ruby peeling out against the tiles to get as far away from Taeyong's kitchen wrath as possible.

Doyoung's shrieking laughter bounces off the walls as he trips over the stool, and yep-- time to run.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://taeyongism.tumblr.com/)


End file.
